#i think i am now at peace with him

[persephoneflouwers]

-

[hinamie]

shhhh

[respectthepetty]

After telling Home he forgave him and begging him to come back to eat the food Peach made him, the last thing Peach said to Home before Home returned to his body was a plea for Home to come back for Pang.

Home isn't just a sugar daddy.

He is Pang's best friend.

When Home and Pang thought they lost their best friend, these normally loud and theatrical characters became quiet.

Because they are the same.

Which is why Home noticed what was happening with Pang even when her own brother didn't.

People mistake Home and Pang's behavior for silliness and dismiss their contributions, but Home and Pang actually try really hard all the time to fix problems even if their approach is out of the norm.

They are besties and siblings.

And Peach knows that Pang has already lost enough family.

So Peach made one last attempt to get through to Home by reminding him that even if he didn't want to come back for Peach, he had to come back for their little sister.

Pang and Home understand each other without having to speak a word.

They get each other when nobody else does.

And Peach knows that.

So even if the boys were actually upset with each other, they don't want to see Pang upset.

She just wants the best for them.

And they want what's best for her.

Pang has two brothers who love her dearly.

So much, in fact, that they both came back for her.

[secriden]

I woke up this morning still thinking about Fadel waking up in Style's bed.

I wonder what was running through Fadel's head as he turned to look at Style, eyes still squinting against the too-bright morning light, the unfamiliar comfort of the shape of Style's name on his lips for the very first time. I wonder if he was too sleepy to process how strange it was that he didn't really mind being pinned down by the weight of Style's thigh thrown over his hips; that the sensation was grounding and reassuring rather than being confining or suffocating. I wonder if the thought crossed his mind that he wouldn't mind waking up like this again, wouldn't mind letting someone into his space, wouldn't mind giving someone the bared vulnerability of lying naked and unprotected with all the implications of unwavering trust that has -- not if it was with him.

I wonder if Fadel registered the way his heartbeat is steady and calm despite the strange surroundings and unfamiliar bed, because something in him has already labelled the person lying next to him as safe.

I wonder if Fadel even understood that this, right here, in all its quiet and unacknowledged stillness, was the moment he fell in love?

[megamindsecretlair]

Girl you saw Aaron kissing on that white woman?

I hate to say it but that British black man with sum blue eyes like em PALE. (Of course I am saying this purely in suspicion)

Yeah, I seent it. So? Lmfao. Sorry. Ik folks are pressed but I simply don't understand the need to find something bad about this man?

We have so very few (practically nonexistent) Black men that we can love on in public. He's smart, sweet, talented, precious, a goofball, a nerd, and introvert, and has been nothing but precious around Black women. He practically lights up around us.

Why is it so hard to believe that he's just....a good guy? Because we have proof that he liked ONE yt? Dont they all?

But what really gets me is that folks think he's not capable of liking a yt AND a Black woman 🤔 like he has to be on one camp or the other.

And this is purely MY opinion. I'm not shaming anyone for caring. I understand. Its so beyond exhausting to feel like we're not wanted by our own counterparts. That they continually play in our faces and we love them anyway.

But until I actually see that he move funny around us, I just wanna love on him. I love that hes goofy and silly. I love that he can't dance. I love that he can sing and rap (though British rap is asssss, sorry Aaron daddy 🥲). I love that hes an introvert. I love hearing him say "opportunity, for me personally, legacy, honored, brother, bruv" and whatever else fly outta that beautiful mouth of his.

I love that hes "lightskinned". I love that I get to see him in Lanterns next year, however I can have him. Because I know Gunn will piss me smooth awf 🙄 I love that hes 6'3. I love that he works out. I love that he has tattoos. I love his big ass hands and that ass 🙌🏽 (that ass really needs to be worshipped)

I love that he dresses extremely well and couldn't pose for shit earlier in his career 🤣) I love that hes into the superhero genre as a whole (especially when everyone acts like it needs to go. Don't like it, don't watch. But don't ruin it for others who do like it).

I love that he shares a close bond with his family. I love how he lights up when he's comfortable. I love when he's in his feelings 🙌🏽🤪🥵 I love when he posts subtle thirst traps.

I love the Kelvin tiktok of him throwing his head back and laughing. I love that he can laugh about himself. I love his funny little laugh.

I love when he wears long sleeves. I love when he wears short sleeves. I love when he's tanned. I love when the camera makes him look pale as hell. I love when he wears glasses. I love when he brings those chains out 👁👄👁 .

I love when he hugs himself. I love when he has funny expressions. I love his big ears. I love his traditionally African features. I love his accent. I love that nasty tongue. I love his teefs Mr A is for All 32.

I love that he was a punk ass kid daring people to race him. I love that he had pimples. I love that hes finally getting the recognition he deserves. I love that he is only going to soar because he has a pure soul.

I love that he feels like our second chance with Chadwick. I love that his smile makes me melt. I love that every peek into his brain just makes me love him more.

I love that hes so cute I want to wring his neck. I love that I want to swing from his neck like a mf monkey 🙌🏽🤪 I love those tank tops he be wearing. Ooooof I love the hoochie Daddy shorts.

I love that hes Big Daddy. I love he went viral over an adverb. I love that hes into martial arts. I love that his thighs are so big. I love that he can lift 425 and pull damn near double that.

I love that he knows how to bring that ass outside. I love when he wears those shades. I love his photos. I love his juicy ass pink lips. I love that big headed, sloped shoulder, chameleon 🤪

I love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him

And if he turns up with a yt wife? Yes, that will hurt. But I'll always have Terry who canonically loves a Black woman from infinity to infinity (he instinctively believed Jess was the inside mole helping because he saw her as an ally)

Signed, A Certified Simp Named Mega

[mrs-gauche]

I beat Veilguard.

It's 4am. I'm a mess. I'm in tears.

[isalabells]

„Es ist auch interessant beim Fußball, es ist immer noch ein Spiel. Stehste da einmal richtig, machst das Tor. Das sind genau diese Momente. Das Glück muss auf deiner Seite sein, da muss einfach so viel zusammenlaufen. [...] Es gibt auch Momente, wo ich sag, ‚Okay, wär vielleicht zu einem anderen Zeitpunkt besser gewesen.' Wenn ich ein bisschen älter gewesen wär, noch ein bisschen mehr Erfahrung. Aber im Nachgang– im Finale zu sein und zu spielen, ich mein, was gibt's Besseres für einen Fußballer?“

2014 FIFA World Cup Final | Maracanã Stadium | Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 13 July 2014

Germany 1 – 0 Argentina

Götze 113'

[fisheito]

collab #2 with @xenole i was given a chibi yakumo and i.. i...... turned it into thiS

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 61

Chapter; Highlights (okay the entire chapter is a highlight)🤣

As requested @mysterylilycheeta I NEED TO SQUEAL IN WYVERN FANGIRL WITH YOU NOW CAUSE OH M GOODNESS THIS CHAPTER ON SO MANY LEVELS I JUST AHAKWIHUHFEJLZXBKEKA

Agony was a song in Lorcan's blood, his bones, his breath.

Every step of the horse, every leap she made over body and debris, sent it ringing afresh. There was no end, no mercy from it. It was all he could do to keep in the saddle, to cling to consciousness.

To keep his arm around Elide.

She had come for him. Had found him, somehow, on this endless battlefield.

His name on her lips had been a summons he could never deny, even when death had held him so gently, nestled beneath all those he'd felled, I, and waited for his last breaths.

And now, charging toward that too-distant keep, so far behind the droves of soldiers and riders racing for the gates, he wondered if these minutes would be his last. Her last.

She had come for him.

Lorcan managed to glance toward the dam on their right. Toward the ruk rider signaling that it was only a matter of minutes until it unleashed hell over the plain.

He didn't know how it had become weakened. Didn't care.

Still Elide kept urging the horse onward, kept them on as straight a path toward the distant keep as possible.

No ruk would come to sweep them up. No, his luck had been spent in surviving this long, in her finding him. His power would do nothing against that water.

The farthest lines of panicked soldiers appeared, and Farasha charged past them.

Elide let out a sob, and he followed the line of her sight.

To the keep gate, still open.

"Faster, Farasha!" She didn't hide the raw terror in her voice, the desperation.

Once the dam broke, it would take less than a minute for the tidal wave to reach them.

She had come for him. She had found him.

The world went quiet. The pain in his body faded into nothing. Into something secondary.

Lorcan slid his other arm around Elide, bringing his mouth close to her ear as he said, "You have to let me go."

Each word was gravelly, his voice strained nearly to the point of uselessness.

Elide didn't shift her focus from the keep ahead. "No."

That gentle quiet flowed around him, clearing the fog of pain and battle. "You have to. You have to, Elide. I'm too heavy-and without my weight, you might make it to the keep in time."

"No." The salt of her tears filled his nose.

Lorcan brushed his mouth over her damp cheek, ignoring the roaring pain in his body. The horse galloped and galloped, as if she might outrace death itself.

"I love you," he whispered in Elide's ear. "I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken." Her tears flowed past him in the wind. "And I will be with you ..." His voice broke, but he made himself say the words, the truth in his heart. "I will be with you always."

He was not frightened of what would come for him once he tumbled off the horse. He was not frightened at all, if it meant her reaching the keep.

So Lorcan kissed Elide's cheek again, allowed himself to breathe in her scent one last time. "I love you," he repeated, and began to withdraw his arms from around her waist.

Elide slapped a hand onto his forearm. Dug in her nails, right into his skin, fierce as any ruk.

"No."

There were no tears in her voice. Nothing but solid, unwavering steel.

"No," she said again. The voice of the Lady of Perranth.

Lorcan tried to move his arm, but her grip would not be dislodged.

If he tumbled off the horse, she would go with him.

Together. They would either outrun this or die together.

"Elide-"

But Elide slammed her heels into the horse's sides.

Slammed her heels into the dark flank and screamed, "FLY, FARASHA." She cracked the reins. "FLY, FLY, FLY!"

And gods help her, that horse did.

As if the god that had crafted her filled the mare's lungs with his own breath, Farasha gave a surge of speed.

Faster than the wind. Faster than death.

Farasha cleared the first of the fleeing Darghan cavalry. Passed desperate horses and riders at an all-out gallop for the gates.

Her mighty heart did not falter, even when Lorcan knew it was raging to the point of bursting.

Less than a mile stood between them and the keep.

But a thunderous, groaning crack cleaved the world, echoing off the lake, the mountains.

There was nothing he could do, nothing that brave, unfaltering horse could do, as the dam ruptured.

Rowan made himself stand there, to watch the last moments of the Lady of Perranth and his former commander. It was all he could offer: witnessing their deaths, so he might tell the story to those he encountered. So they would not be forgotten.

The roaring of the oncoming wave became deafening, even from miles away.

Still Elide and Lorcan raced, Farasha passing horse after horse after horse.

Even up here, would they escape the wave's reach? Rowan dared to survey the battlements, to assess if he needed to get the others, needed to get Aelin, to higher ground.

But Aelin was not at his side.

She was not on the battlement at all.

Rowan's heart halted. Simply stopped beating as a ruddy-brown ruk dropped from the skies, spearing for the center of the plain.

Arcas, Borte's ruk. A golden-haired woman dangling from his talons.

Aelin. Aelin was—

Arcas neared the earth, talons splaying.

Aelin hit the ground, rolling, rolling, until she uncoiled to her feet.

Right in the path of that wave.

"Oh gods," Fenrys breathed, seeing her, too.

They all saw her.

The queen on the plain.

The endless wall of water surging for her.

The keep stones began shuddering. Rowan threw out a hand to brace himself, fear like nothing he had known ripping through him as Aelin lifted her arms above her head.

A pillar of fire shot up around her, lifting her hair with it.

The wave roared and roared for her, for the army behind her.

The shaking in the keep was not from the wave.

It was not from that wall of water at all.

Cracks formed in the earth, splintering across it. Spiderwebbing from Aelin.

"The hot springs," Chaol breathed. "The valley floor is full of veins into the earth itself."

Into the burning heart of the world.

The keep shook, more violently this time.

The pillar of fire sucked back into Aelin.

She held out a hand before her, her fist closed.

As if it would halt the wave in its tracks.

He knew then. Either as her mate or carranam, he knew.

"Three months," Rowan breathed.

The others stilled.

"Three months," he said again, his knees wobbling. "She's been making the descent into her power for three months."

Every day she had been with Maeve, bound in iron, she had gone deeper. And she had not tapped too far into that power since they'd freed her because she had kept making the plunge.

To gather up the full might of her magic.

Not for the Lock, not for Erawan.

But for Maeve's death blow.

A few weeks of descent had taken her powers to devastating levels. Three months of it

…

Holy gods. Holy rutting gods.

And when her fire hit the wall of water now towering over her, when they collided —

"GET DOWN!" Rowan bellowed, over the screaming waters. "GET DOWN NOW!"

His companions dropped to the stones, any within earshot doing the same.

Rowan plummeted into his power. Plummeted into it fast and hard, ripping out any remaining shred of magic.

Elide and Lorcan were still too far from the gates. Thousands of soldiers were still too far from the gates as the wave crested above them.

As Aelin opened her hand toward it.

Fire erupted.

Cobalt fire. The raging soul of a flame.

A tidal wave of it.

Taller than the raging waters, it blasted from her, flaring wide.

The wave slammed into it. And where water met a wall of fire, where a thousand years of confinement met three months of it, the world exploded.

Blistering steam, capable of melting flesh from bone, shot across the plain.

With a roar, Rowan threw all that remained of his magic toward the onslaught of steam, a wall of wind that shoved it toward the lake, the mountains.

Still the waters came, breaking against the flames that did not so much as yield an inch.

Maeve's death blow. Spent here, to save the army that might mean Terrasen's salvation. To spare the lives on the plain.

Rowan gritted his teeth, panting against his fraying power. A burnout lurked, deadly close.

The raging wave threw itself over and over and over into the wall of flame.

Rowan didn't see if Elide and Lorcan made it into the keep. If the other soldiers and riders on the plain stopped to gape.

Princess Hasar said, rising beside him, "That power is no blessing."

"Tell that to your soldiers," Fenrys snarled, standing, too.

"I did not mean it that way," Hasar snipped, and awe was indeed stark on her face.

Rowan leaned against the battlements, panting hard as he fought to keep the lethal steam from flowing toward the army. As he cooled and sent it whisking away.

Solid hands slid under his arms, and then Fenrys and Gavriel were there, propping him up between them.

A minute passed. Then another.

The wave began to lower. Still the fire burned.

Rowan's head pounded, his mouth going dry.

Time slipped from him. A coppery tang filled his mouth.

The wave lowered farther, raging waters quieting. Then roaring turned to lapping, rapids into eddies.

Until the wall of flame began to lower, too. Tracking the waters down and down and down. Letting them seep into the cracks of the earth.

Rowan's knees buckled, but he held on to his magic long enough for the steam to lessen.

For it, too, to be calmed.

It filled the plain, turning the world into drifting mist. Blocking the view of the queen in its center.

Then silence. Utter silence.

Fire flickered through the mist, blue turning to gold and red. A muted, throbbing glow.

Rowan spat blood onto the battlement stones, his breath like shards of glass in his throat.

The glowing flames shrank, steam rippling past. Until there was only a slim pillar of fire, veiled in the mist-shrouded plain.

Not a pillar of fire.

But Aelin.

Glowing white-hot. As if she had given herself so wholly to the flame that she had become fire herself.

The Fire-Bringer someone whispered down the battlements.

The mist rippled and billowed, casting her into nothing but a glowing effigy.

The silence turned reverent.

A gentle wind from the north swept down. The veil of mist pulled back, and there she was.

She glowed from within. Glowed golden, tendrils of her hair floating on a phantom wind.

"Mala's Heir," Yrene breathed.

Down on the plain, Elide and Lorcan had halted.

The wind pushed away more of the drifting mist, clearing the land beyond Aelin.

And where that mighty, lethal wave had loomed, where death had charged toward them, nothing remained at all.

For three months, she had sung to the darkness and the flame, and they had sung back.

For three months, she had burrowed so deep inside her power that she had plundered undiscovered depths. While Maeve and Cairn had worked on her, she had delved. Never letting them know what she mined, what she gathered to her, day by day by day.

A death blow. One to wipe a dark queen from the earth forever.

She'd kept that power coiled in herself even after she'd been freed from the irons. Had struggled to keep it down these weeks, the strain enormous. Some days, it had been easier to barely speak. Some days, swaggering arrogance had been her key to ignoring it.

Yet when she had seen that wave, when she had seen Elide and Lorcan choosing death together, when she had seen the army that might save Terrasen, she'd known. She'd felt the fire sleeping under this city, and knew they had come here for a reason.

She had come here for this reason.

A river still flowed from the dam, harmless and small, wending toward the lake.

Nothing more.

Aelin lifted a glowing hand before her as blessed, cooling emptiness filled her at last.

Slowly, starting from her fingertips, the glow faded.

As if she were forged anew, forged back into her body.

Back into Aelin.

Clarity, sharp and crystal clear, filled its wake. As if she could see again, breathe again.

Inch by inch, the golden glow faded into skin and bone. Into a woman once more.

Already, a white-tailed hawk launched skyward.

But as the last of the glow faded, disappearing out through her toes, Aelin fell to her knees.

Fell to her knees in the utter silence of the world, and curled onto her side.

She had the vague sense of strong, familiar arms scooping her up. Of being carried onto a broad feathery back, still in those arms.

Of soaring through the skies, the last of the mist rippling away into the afternoon sun.

And then sweet darkness.

[kheprriverse]

Y’all thinking about an older Ares has RUINED me

[s0fter-sin]

wooimbouttamakeanameformyselfere

[hinamie]

back on my free! brainrot

[desifugo]

Strangers by ethel cain is so vinland saga core. do y'all see the vision

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

OKAY. MAN.

[kickassfu]

my dog might die tonight

my mom's depressed and emotionally exhausted, to the point she slurs her words and feels like a zombie most days

has said to my face she doesn't want to fix it

that soon her mom will die and me and my sister are grown so...

we don't need her

and my dog's old and sick

in pain

at the vet getting oxygen and medication

to see if he'll make it through the night

and thank god he's there, so he doesn't have to suffer

but he's not next to us

he might die alone away from us

i think there's some poetic bullshit there

he would die in pain by our side

but he has a chance to survive away from us

and if he doesn't make it till the next day he'll die alone, but without pain

i just want to take everyone's pain away

but I can't

i can't fix it

it's not up to me

i can't do shit

[orlesianhennin]

I am actually Very Concerned now about how they are going to handle the Inquisitor in so many ways, mainly because I do not just want two cookie-cutter attitudes towards Solas... like if your Inquisitor was an f!Lavellan and romanced him are her two settings going to be either Still Pining After All These Years or Woman Scorned and Out for Revenge...?